Page 40 of You, As You Are

A shattered heart.

Still desperate for something to change.

He hated it. He hated that this was his fault. That this rut he’d dug for himself with his job and his life was so damn stifling. There was no way forward and no way back. He had six weeks until he was fired, and no job lined up for when he found himself without one. Walking blind was terrifying, but he had no plan. He didn’t even know where to begin, or why – when he looked up along the darkened street –he found himself on Maisie’s road.

It wasn’t their usual route to walk at night and Ted didn’t know the way to Maisie’s flat to have guided him to it. Which meant thathemust have led them here.

The road was deserted. A few stragglers wandered their way towards the pubs and bars. Somehow Iain’s feet kept on moving until he brought himself to outside her door. He coaxed Ted to stop on the opposite side of the road, no streetlights close enough to let him even see his own feet. That didn’t matter when his focus was somewhere much higher.

Her curtains were open, the television glowing and flicking from colour to colour. Maisie danced through her living room with a hairbrush in her hand like she was having her own personal concert, and the sight of her so carefree, red curls loose and bouncing, calmed the buzz in Iain’s brain that wouldn’t ebb.

It’d been a few days since their unexpected meeting in the café, and he hadn’t stopped replaying their entire conversation in his head. From the way she’d rightly chewed him up for running his mouth, to being on the verge of tears admitting she was worried about hernain.

There she was, her wide, bathrobe-covered hips swishing, and here he was under a black cloud of his own making, looking increasingly perverted to anyone who might be watching him.

Ted sat down in a bored huff, staring out to the stretch of pavement they still had left to walk.

If just a fragment of Maisie’s cheeriness could make him feel warmer, then was it so wrong to want it? He could call her. Her phone number was in the hikers’ group chat and so easy enough to get hold of. But what would he say? How would he explain that he’d turned up at her flat without knowing how or why?

You’ll look like a creep, that’s what you’ll look like.

Ted nudged his knee, and Iain exhaled slowly, turning away to continue along the shadows.

They barely knew each other; Maisie didn’t need his shit.

At least the sun shone two mornings later. It was a day requiring three different layers under his coat, but a bright one, nonetheless. Ted was twice as eager as he was to walk the side streets to the beachfront where the day’s tourists drove in early to grab parking spots. The pier that stretched out into the grey-blue horizon was directly ahead of them, peeking between buildings like looking through the peephole of a lock.

“Iain!”

Only one English girl would be calling his name at eight in the morning. Looking over his shoulder, Iain slowed his stride and felt the strain on Ted’s lead when he forgot to give him the memo.

Maisie checked behind her before crossing the street, still a little too far to not shout “Hi there!”

“Su’mai.” Iain couldn’t even make his ‘hello’ sound cheerful this morning, left in a hungover state of pissed-off-ness from two evenings before.

She caught up to his and Ted’s side, greeting his dog with a pat. “Do you live this way? I thought you’d be over nearNainfor some reason.”

Iain pointed in the general direction of his house. “By there. Right and then left off of your road.

“Ohh.”

“You’re in a good mood,” he noted, taking stock of her fleece and coat and the fuzzy headband covering her ears. He didn’t suppose there were any warmer hats that could keep her red curls contained.

“I have a good feeling about today,” Maisie announced as she bounced with her stride. It was …damn it,it was cute. Iain was glad she was feeling much better than she had been at the café. “It’s finally February,” she added. “Flowers are starting to come up, and though the forecast is chilly, at least it’s a sunny day.”

Iain tried to let some of her enthusiasm flow into him, but it didn’t work. He’d spoken to his father two nights ago and he was still in a sour mood from it.

“You, however” — Maisie turned on him — “look like Ted stole your breakfast this morning.” His dog’s ears perked up. “More than usual, anyway,” she added.

“I’m grand,” he said, though it probably wasn’t convincing this time. In general, he’d gotten rather good at faking he was fine. Though he couldn’t force his voice to be anything perkier than what it was, or cultivate some other expression besidessternthat he was sure by now he’d lost the ability to make.

Don’t concern her with your shit.They were friends now, as declared the last time they’d had a conversation, but to Iain that meant he was here forher.He could give Maisie all the time that she wanted but he couldn’t let her peek beneath his surface in return.

Her mouth did that disbelieving thing where it scrunched to one side, but she didn’t call him out.

The shoreline was unseasonably calm this morning. Iain filled his lungs with the refreshing salt in the air and washed-up sand as seagulls pecked along the beach. The sun began to rise behind the town, and a few locals chanced dipping their toes for a morning swim in the grey waters. He’d watched folk do it plenty of times on Ted’s morning walks, but he hadn’t ever liked the thought of joining in at this time of year.

They headed along the promenade towards the minibus parked midway alongMarine Terrace– the colourful mismatch of Victorian and Georgian homes and hotels. Except there was no one else here. At least no oneoutside. None of their group were huddled by the minibus door like usual.

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